


The Meeting

by Sherlockeddwho_castiel



Series: Hamish/Alex Drabbles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockeddwho_castiel/pseuds/Sherlockeddwho_castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish meets Alex for the first time. </p>
<p>(Yes, I realize I'm terrible at summaries, sorry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is an ongoing series, I'll be updating when I can. Thanks for reading! Comments etc are welcome :)

Hamish Watson-Holmes had lead anything but a normal life. His two fathers were loving, yes. Caring, most definitely. Fantastic parents, most of the time. But every family has its quirks. In the Watson-Holmes household, those quirks were what kept the place running. For instance, without his father’s ludicrous experiments strewn across the kitchen table Hamish would never have learned which chemicals were and were not safe to use or touch or drink. Without his dad’s constant worrying over both Hamish and his father, Hamish would never have learned how to properly care for wounds, how to cook a proper meal, how to clean experiments up, how to make sure he got enough sleep every night, etcetera etcetera. Yes, the Watson-Holmes household was strange and quite dangerous, but functional. Hamish would have it no other way.

Which is, of course, the reason Hamish decided to go to school close to home. Oxford. He waited until he was eighteen, as his dad suggested, before applying. All three of them knew that Hamish would have been accepted in 10th year but John had insisted that he apply after he’d finished high school. Now, however, Hamish was eighteen and off to his first day of classes. He’d arrived at the massive, beautiful campus three days prior, he had a roommate who he’d yet to meet, his dorm was nice and, best of all, free WIFI. Hamish had set up his laptop and school supplies on what he’d mentally claimed as his half of the dorm and was completely ready for the semester. 

Hamish walked into the small lecture hall five minutes before his first class, second year Chemistry, and looked around for an empty seat. As it was a small room that only sat 50, most of the seats were taken so Hamish found one in the back corner. It and the chair beside it were the only two free ones so Hamish opted to take the chair closest to the wall. He set his bag at his feet and searched for a pencil and his notepad, even though he was certain that he already knew everything the professor would say. Hamish had read his way through the University Chemistry textbooks when he was 17, much to his fathers delight.

The professor, an elderly Scottish man dressed in a tweed jacket, black suspenders and corduroy pants finished setting up and cleared his throat, ready to begin the lesson. All of a sudden, the doors were thrown open and a blond boy waltzed into the room with the air of a sultan, emperor or king who was about to overthrow a far away land. The professor raised an eyebrow and the boy shrugged, chewing a piece of gum nonchalantly. He slung his bag over his shoulder and looked around for an empty seat. The only one was beside Hamish and he made his way over.

Hamish couldn’t take his eyes off the newcomer. He looked to be about 20, his hair shone like flakes of gold and looked incredibly soft. His hair was a couple centimeters long and tousled, but neat. His arms and chest were muscled but not overly buff, and his skin was smooth and pale. When the boys warm, brown eyes met Hamish’s striking blue ones, the younger realized that he was practically drooling over the Greek statue of a young man. He blushed and turned away as the newcomer walked towards him, praying that the seat beside him wasn’t the one that the blond was aiming for. However, his hopes were in vain when he heard the faint thud of a bag and the creak of an old chair beside him as the boy sank into it. Hamish tried his best to ignore the stranger, but the feat seemed to be impossible. Even a nun would be tempted by the boy and Hamish was having quite a hard time thinking of anything except about how good he smelled, how attractive he was, how perfect the young man beside him seemed and how completely contrary to him Hamish himself was. Hamish had never found himself to be attractive. Cute, maybe. But Attractive? Sexy? Handsome? Never. His limbs were too gangly, he was too thin, his cheekbones too prominent, his face too pale, his hair always messy, his eyes too bright. He was too awkward and too smart and too quiet, the list never ended. 

Hamish was shocked out of his reveries by a deep, rich voice. “Hello, I’m Alex. Mind if I borrow a pencil?” Hamish gulped and turned to his neighbor, trying not to sweat or stutter or bit his inner cheek or do anything else that he did when he was nervous. He nodded dumbly before realizing that social protocol normally mandates that one must give their name to somebody when the other person gave them theirs. 

“H-Hamish.” He stuttered, cursing himself for his awkwardness and nervousness. The blond-Alex smiled and chuckled, still looking at Hamish expectantly. It was a full twenty seconds before Hamish realized that he had agreed to lend Alex a pencil and his cheeks flushed a bright red as he bent, muttering an apology. He came up and handed a pencil to Alex. “Here you are.” He muttered. 

“Thanks.” Alex said with a grin and turned back to his desk, beginning to copy down the notes that the prof was writing on the board. Hamish sketched and doodled in his notepad, as he already knew about what was being taught. He noticed that Alex kept looking over at him and grinning when he saw that Hamish blushed and began to furiously scribble on the paper. Hamish couldn’t wait for the class to end so he could forget about Alex.

The class passed in much the same way, Alex peeking over at Hamish and grinning whilst Hamish blushed furiously and scribbled in his note pad. As the professor finished his lecture and sent the class on their way, Hamish hurried to pack his things and get out, only to be stopped at the door by none other than Mr. Sex on Legs himself. 

“You said your name was Hamish, yeah?” he asked, his accent faintly Irish sounding, making Hamish slightly weak at the knees.

“Um…yeah.” He said, confused as to why this older student would want to speak to Hamish of his own accord. 

“Are you, by chance, staying in the dorm 381 in the building across the car park?” Alex looked at Hamish with what seemed to be hope in his eyes, though Hamish refused to believe it. There was no way the kid actually wanted anything to do with him.

“Um…yeah.” He said again, realizing how stupid he probably sounded. His face had gone pink again and he was chewing his inner cheek, trying not to fidget as he thought about the reasons that Alex could have asked him. Logically, Hamish figured that the only reason would be because he was Alex’s mysterious roommate, though the younger blanched at the thought. If he had to actually live with Alex, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Alex seemed quite overjoyed at that news and held his hand out. 

“Well then, it seems as if I’m your new housemate. Hello.” Hamish nodded and shook Alex’s hand, offering a small smile at Alex’s seeming ease at conversation and willingness to get along and speak with Hamish.

“Alright…um…hi.” Hamish said quietly. “Have you moved your stuff in yet?” he asked, unsure of how one goes about speaking with ones future housemate for the first time. Alex shook his head.

“I was waiting to meet you to do it, I know you’ve probably already moved in so I wanted to introduce myself before I go throwing my stuff all over yours.” Alex explained with a small chuckle. “I was on vacation with my dads and they forgot I had school so I was late.” 

Hamish nodded in understanding. “Mine aren’t very punctual either. I told them school started three days ago in order to be here on time.” Hamish spoke with ease, incredibly surprised that, after he got over his initial shock and nervousness, Alex was surprisingly easy to speak with. The light banter and easy conversation kept up, both boys laughing and chatting as Hamish helped Alex move in and they set a couple of ‘house rules’. 

By the time that everything was settled, Hamish felt completely at ease with Alex, a feeling that he’d never experienced with anybody other than his dad’s and the late Ms. Hudson. He felt as if he could speak freely with Alex and, for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable around somebody that wasn’t related to him. The two students were seated in their small living room on the couch and watching the telly that was hooked up to Hamish’s computer. They had just finished watching Skyfall, and were about to go to bed when the question was finally asked. 

“So, Hamish. Just curious, what’s your surname then?”

“Watson-Holmes. Yours?”

“Shit.”

“What?”  
“Moran-Moriarty.”

“Oh. Shit.”


End file.
